Broken
by ThatOneHobbit
Summary: Francis has felt enough hurt and heartbreak from the Englishman whom he loves so dearly, but can Arthur truly show Francis how much he truly means to him? Human names used, Rated M for Self Harm, Suicide, Depression and foul language.
1. Run

"My dearest, Arthur! Please, come back!" Arthur stormed into the room with Francis chasing after him.

"Bugger off Francis! How dare you take bloody advantage of me like that? This is why no one wants to be with you!" Arthur snapped, causing then Frenchman to recoil with a heartbroken look on his face.

"Mon cher, Arthur... I-I would never t-take advantage of you and I did not. If you recall, you wanted it, I cou-could see it i-in your eyes. I know you... l-love me as I love you!" Francis replied quietly, forcing back several sobs and tears.

Light pink dusted the Englishman's cheeks at Francis' last few words, but it was gone as quickly as it had came. "No Francis. Just leave me alone! I hate you and I will never love someone as flamboyant as you so bugger off!" Arthur's words stung Francis painfully.

He couldn't take it any more, it hurt so badly... For the first time in his life, Francis actually _cried_ in someone's presence. Crystal drops trickled down the French nation's perfectly sculpted face as he ran. Ran away as far from the house as he possibly could; never once turning back for fear of being stung by the neighbouring nation's words once again. Muttering the same thing over and over as he ran, "Je vous aime... Je vous aime, Arthur... Je vous aime..." Leaving a stunned Arthur in the living room with mixed emotions, chocking back the tears instantly regretting everything he said...

Francis ran away, never looking back. He shook his head furiously, squeezing his eyes shut and pushed onwards, not once slowing. 'Pourquoi vous ne pouvez pas comprendre, Arthur? Je vous aime...' He thought to himself over and over, he tried to force the thought out of his head but unfortunately had no such luck. Francis was beginning to wonder if the world, no, if Arthur would be better off if he was gone. 'Yes, perhaps everyone would be better off if I was gone... All I ever seem to do is annoy them and piss them off. I do not think they would mind if I died... Arthur might be happy then. He hates me, he wants me to leave him alone. I-'

-_tires screeching- _

_**Crash.**_

Francis' vision went black.

* * *

_'I-is that? A-am I d-dead?' _

_Darkness all around him with nothing but a small white light, a soft, pleasant warmth emanating from it. _

_'It's so beautiful...'_

_He walked up to the light, reaching out to touch it..._

"Francis? Francis, please wake up right now! I'm so scared... Please don't- don't leave me. Please Francis, I'm begging you!"

_'W-who was that? It sounds... familiar.'_

_It all clicked into place._

_'A-Arthur? I-Is that you? Arthur!'_

_He turned and ran, as fast as his legs could carry him. Turning and running back into the darkness to find his way back to the man he loved._

_Bam. Wall._

_'I c-can't... Arthur I can't g-get through!' He called in vain. No one could hear him, he was alone in the thick black._

_Panicking, he forced all of his weight into the wall._

_Falling. _

_Darkness. Never ending darkness._

* * *

Francis opened his sapphire eyes, but there was something different about them. They well dull, lifeless. They no longer shone the way they used to. He felt someone clinging onto him, warm tears on shoulder.

"Ar...thur? I-is that... you?" Francis breathed out painfully. His whole body ached terribly.

"F-Francis! You're awake!" Arthur sobbed, holding the Frenchman closer. Their eyes met; Emerald and Sapphire. Noticing the light no longer there in Francis' eyes Arthur frowned, but pushed the thought aside for now.

Attempting to sit up, Francis grimaced in pain. "Where... Where am I? What h-happened?" He wheezed out, the strain on his chest knocked the breath out of him.

"In the hospital, Francis. You were in a car accident. Apparently you ran straight out into the road. What the hell where you thinking you bloody idiot? The fact that you're a nation is the reason you aren't dead right now!" More tears fell endlessly onto the hospital bed.

_'Did I really try to kill myself?... I-I don't... remember.' _Francis turned away, not bearing to see the man he loved cry for him. _'Why do you... Why do you shed your tears for me? I thought you hated me. You do hate me.' _A single tear dripped from the corner of Francis' blue eye.

"How... bad are my injuries?" Francis winced, sitting up he gritted his teeth so as to not let out a cry of pain. It felt as thought he was being stabbed all over a thousand times.

"W-well, you have three broken ribs - one of which pierced a lung, slight nerve damage to your spine - but nothing too severe, a deeps gash on your right thigh and numerous cuts and bruises everywhere else... Please, don't you ever scare me like that again!" Arthur cradled Francis close, not daring to let go for fear he might lose the French nation, burying his head in Francis' shoulder.

"B-Because I l-love you so, so much..." Arthur clung on tighter to the man he loved.


	2. Promise

**Sorry for the little wait! . I meant to upload this part the other day but I completely forgot, sorry!**

**Anyway Hope you like it!**

**Side note: I speak French, but not fluently so I'm terribly sorry if any of the French is wrong!**

Francis woke with a start; tears falling gracefully into his lap. Nightmare. Pushing himself up carefully, he winced from the sharp stabbing sensation that shot up his spine. Looking around the white room, slightly dazed, he remembered he was in the hospital and sighed.

_'Did I really do it? Did I truly... try to die?'_

_His thoughts took over rational thinking._

_'I-I don't remember...'_

Francis' lips turned up into a small, soft smile, his trail of thought breaking as Arthur clung to the Frenchman tighter in his slumber. Apparently Arthur had spent the night there with him.

Francis whispered apologetically to the sleeping nation he loved so dearly, "Mon cher... Je suis tellement désolé."

_My dear... I am so sorry._

He gently brushed his fingers over Arthur's golden hair, causing him to stir and smile contently at the older man's touch. "I-I just thought that everyone would be better off without me... T-That you w-would be better off w-without me..." For some reason, this made Arthur cuddle up, quite comfortably, to Francis.

"I love you. I'm so s-sorry..." A muffled mumble escaped from a sleeping Arthur. Talking in his sleep? Francis stiffened at the words, slowly moving his gaze down to look at his love. His expression turned from that of shock to adoration.

_'He is so cute when he is sleeping...'_

"Non, mon cher... I am sorry, you have no need to be sorry. Everything is all my fault." Francis pressed his lips softly to Arthur's forehead before deciding to go back to sleep for a short while to try and rest.

_**He doesn't love you. He only feels sorry for you.**_

_'W-what? N-no! He said he-he loves me!'_

_**Have you ever stopped to think he might be lying?**_

_'No...No! He would n-never lie to me!'_

_**He would. And he is. He doesn't love you, he hates you. He always has done.**_

_'N-no... H-he loves me as I l-love him...'_

_**You are so pathetic. He doesn't love you.**_

Arthur held Francis close in an attempt to calm him. He was crying in his sleep.

"Shh, sh now. I'm here, it's okay. I'm here..." He comforted, stroking Francis' light hair. Subconsciously, Francis felt Arthur's presence, gripping his shirt, Francis buried his face in Arthur's chest.

"S'il vous plaît... ne me quitte pas..."

_'Please... do not leave me...'_

Francis mumbled into Arthur's chest in his native tongue. Growing up with Francis, Arthur had pretty much picked up the French language. He knew it well enough to understand perfectly what Francis had just said and it broke his heart_._

"Shh. I promise you, I won't ever leave again. I'm so sorry Francis." Arthur placed a calming kiss on the top of Francis' head and, to Arthur's surprise, it calmed the Frenchman. He was no longer sobbing silently, the tears had stopped. He was sleeping soundly again. Holding him close, Arthur got himself comfortable.

"Mr Kirkland?" A young nurse, no older than twenty-five, with chocolate brown hair, of slim build and hazel eyes glittering with youth, "The doctor will be in shortly to check on Mr Bonnefoy. If it isn't too much trouble, could you please wake him up?"

"Of course, thank you." Arthur nodded politely. "Francis, the doctor will be here in the minute," Arthur shook the Frenchman lightly.

"Mmm?" Opening his eyes, Francis yawned.

"The doctor will be in to check on you in a moment," Arthur smiled sweetly, gently stroking his hair.

"Oh, merci Arthur." Francis cracked a small smile at the younger male. "A-Arthur?" He asked, a little nervous and frightened of the answer for the coming question.

"Yes Francis?"

"C-could I have a hug, s'il vous plaît?" He asked pleadingly, looking into Arthur's bright, emerald eyes.

Arthur froze. _'Why was he so worried about asking me for that?' _"O-of course you can! Why wouldn't I let you hug me?" As soon as he had spoken, Arthur realised the irony of what he just said. Pushing that thought aside, he snaked his arms around Francis' waist being careful not to hurt him and held him close.

_'I've never held you like this, have I? It's my fault you ended up like this, isn't it? I'm so sorry...'_

Francis smiled contently, but still nervous and wary that Arthur might snap at him. "Je vous aime..." He mumbled, barely audible.

_'Come to think of it, all you've ever done is give me your love but all I ever did was shove you away and curse at you...' _Arthur pulled him closer to show that he wasn't going to snap at Francis.

"Ahem. Mr Bonnefoy, I am Dr. Litoy." The doctor interrupted the two nations. Francis sat up politely, his hands placed perfectly in his lap. If it weren't for the bandages and hospital bracelet, he would have looked perfect with his pale face and his pastel blond locks neatly pulled back by a deep ocean-coloured ribbon. Blue was his favourite colour after all.

"Bonjour, Doctor. Please, all me Francis." His lips moved into a smile.

"Francis, you are a lucky man to be alive after a crash like that. Managing to escape with merely a few broken ribs and whatnot." Litoy ran suspicious eyes over the bandaged man.

_'Lucky... If what Arthur said that happened is true, then how am I lucky?' _He thought silently to himself, his expression not once giving any indication of those sorts of thoughts.

"Oui, I suppose I am quite lucky." There was no emotion in his voice.

"Well then, let's examine your progress over the past three days."

"Three days? Merde! Why did no one tell me?" Francis exclaimed, definitely not impressed.

"I-I didn't think it was important and the time..." Arthur bit his lip.

"Mr Bonnefoy, please calm yourself. Being out of it for a few days is perfectly natural after such a traumatising incident like yours." Dr Litoy explained. Francis stiffened but let the Doctor do his job. Francis winced every now and again at the prodding and poking of the bruises and scrapes visible on his skin.

"Well, it seems you're healing quite nicely. Most of the bruises are gone and many of the visible cuts have started healing too. Now, don't push yourself too hard, get plenty of rest. You may cough violently from time to time but that's just part of the healing process and also, don't panic if you find yourself coughing up blood, that's natural whilst your lung and ribs are healing. Other than that, you're perfectly fine to go home whenever you feel ready. We will get you some crutches to help get yourself around whilst that gash in your thigh heals too." Dr Litoy smiled an oddly creepy smile that set the two nations on edge. Somehow it reminded them of Ivan...

_'H-home? I don't to go home. I don't- no. I **can't **be alone...'_

_**You're meant to be alone though. No one loves you nor will they ever love you.**_

_'Shut up, just shut up!'_

"A-Arthur? C-can I stay with you for a while? I don't want to be alone..." Francis looked at Arthur with his dull sapphire eyes.

_'His eyes... That's it! I knew there was something wrong... His eyes, why don't they shine like they used to?' _Arthur stared in to Frenchman's eyes, deep in thought.

"Arthur! P-please!" Francis pleaded, tears in his eyes. The blatant fear in Francis' voice broke off Arthur's train of thought.

"S-sure! You can always stay with me, whenever you like!"

"Oh merci! Merci! Je vous aime!" He clung onto the Englishman like glue to paper with no intention of ever letting go.

"Je vous aime..." Arthur mumbled with a very poor French accent, but then again, he was English. Placing a finger gently under Francis' chin, Arthur lifted his head up, caressing a cheek affectionately.

_'I am so sorry... For everything.'_

To Francis' surprise, Arthur leant down slightly and pressed their lips together. Pale pink dusted the French nation's cheeks; Just as quickly, Francis found himself kissing Arthur back. They pulled away and, feeling desperate to be near his love, Francis quickly tucked his head under Arthur's chin.

"Je vous aime... tellement." Francis whispered before falling asleep, still very much tired, needing rest.

_'I love you... so much.'_

**And here concludes chapter 2. It's a little longer than the first one but it's still too short ._.**

**I promise I'll try to make them longer in future!**

**Review please? :3**


	3. Please don't leave me

**Broken Chapter 3 Please don't leave me...**

**This is a re-upload because it screwed up last time OTL . Sorry for the wait and sorry it's so short!**

* * *

"Ah! M-mon cher! W-What are you doing?" Francis squeaked as Arthur wrapped an arm around his petit waist, the other coiled gently around the backs of his knees and lifted him bridal style.

"P-Please put me down!" Francis protested.

"No, Francis. Your back still has damage and there's that gash on your thigh too. I refuse to let you walk."

"B-But- He began to whine like he usually does, unintentionally making Arthur smile to himself.

"No." He put an end to the conversation.

Despite his feminine figure and appearance; Arthur was actually quite strong. Although not as strong as Alfred...

Arthur carried Francis out to the car with ease; he felt lighter than usual (because of course it wasn't the first time Arthur had had to lift Francis). Arthur stopped dead just by the rear left door of the car.

"W-What is it, Mon cher?" Francis enquired quietly, still clinging to Arthur like a baby to it's blanket.

"Francis... When was the last time you ate?" Arthur asked simply and bluntly. Francis went pale and Arthur felt him stiffen in his arms.

_'Oh no... He noticed. W-what do I tell him? He's going to realise something is wrong. He cannot know, not him, he cannot ever know...'_

"Francis?"

"I-I cannot recall, I guess I just forgot! Ha-ha.!" He laughed, putting on his best act so as not to worry the Englishman. Despite his efforts, Arthur wasn't buying any of it.

"Francis, you know you're supposed to bloody eat..."

"O-Oui." And he let the matter drop. For now at least.

Opening the car door, careful not to hurt him, Arthur slid Francis onto the back seat. Getting in himself, he started the car and left for home.

* * *

*Le time skip*

* * *

The sun was beginning to set with an orange glow lighting the Earth. It must have been around seven-thirty in the evening in London. It was that calm silence as the sun goes down.

Alas, that silence was shattered by a whiny Frenchman's protesting and an Englishman's cursing.

"I can walk, Mon cher!"

"For the last bloody time. I. Said. NO!"

"But-"

"For the love of- Fucking no!" To make his point, Arthur pretty much dropped Francis down onto the queen size bed in his guest room.

"Ow!" His whining was starting to sound girlie.

"Hmph. There." Arthur grunted in response.

Shifting to get comfortable, Francis held his lover's gaze for a brief moment.

"Francis, you need to rest! Stay in bed, please."

"But, Mon cher! I feel fine-" Francis began to protest but was but was cut off by his own violent coughing fit.

Sighing, Arthur took a seat on the best next to the dying Frenchman. Shaking slightly, Francis looked down at his hands. Gasping, he stared at the splatters of crimson. His shaking became more apparent.

"Don't worry, Frog. The Doctor said that would happen for a few weeks. You did shatter three ribs and pierce a lung."

"O-Oui, I forgot." He wheezed out, still staring down at his bloody hands.

Arthur sighed, he was doing a lot of that lately.

"Here, let's clean you up." He stood, found some tissues then quickly returned, cleaning the up the blood on the elder nation's hands. Looking up, Arthur pressed a pale thumb to the corner of Francis' coral lips, wiping away the small trail of blood. Francis watched curiously as the bloodied thumb entered Arthur's mouth.

"A-Arthur..?" Francis bit down on his lip, cheeks flushed a rosy shade of pink.

"Just hold still, okay?" Arthur hushed him.

Sitting comfortably, he leant forward bit by bit until their faces were centimetres apart. Without warning, Arthur pressed their lips together. Francis' sapphire eyes widened with shock, but quickly slid closed to match Arthur's before returning the kiss.

Pulling away, shocked with himself and face scarlet, Arthur stood before turning to Francis.

"Y-you get some rest now." He turned to leave, however, he was stopped by a sharp tugging on the back of his shirt.

_**He's going to leave you. He always does.**_  
_N-no. He would not leave me. You will see._  
_**It's you're funeral, boy.**_

Fresh tears were threatening to drop from Francis' eyes. The hand gripping Arthur's shirt clung tighter.

"D-don't leave m-me, s-s'il vous plaît!" The crystal droplets began to fall. Sobbing, he begged his love not to leave him. "P-Plase, j-just s-stay..."

A wave of guilt washed over Arthur. He couldn't escape the feeling that the broken man in front of him was all his fault.

"Of course I'll stay. Just so long as you get some bloody rest." Arthur gave in and quickly slid into the bed next to the sobbing male.

Wrapping his small arms around Francis, Arthur lightly kissed him on the cheek, instantly putting an end to his pathetic sobbing.

"Shh now. I promise I won't leave you tonight."

"P-Promise?" He repeated as his face lit up.  
"Promise."

"M-Merci beaucoup!" He cuddled closer, neatly tucking his head under Arthur's chin. "Je t'aime." He mumbled softly.

About to reply, Arthur noticed the elder blond's eyes slide shut with a content smile painted on his perfect face. His breathing softened and evened out, meaning he was asleep.

"Goodnight, Francis. I love you." Arthur whispered, kissing and inhaling the scent of Francis' hair before falling into a slumber himself.

* * *

**Bahh this one was so crappy .**

**Hope you liked this chapter anyway!**

**Please let me know if there's any mistakes so I can correct them.**


	4. Dirty Dreams

**Ahh sorry for the long wait! And sorry again that it's so short .**

**School is almost over for half term now so I will have more time for the next chapters and make them longer and more interesting!**

**There is a lemon (sex scene) in this chapter! If you do not wish to read it then I've marked the beginning and end of it with a '\'.**  
**Enjoy chapter 4!**

* * *

Morning autumn sun cracked through the patriotic curtains. Groaning, Arthur slowly woke from his sleepy state. He shifted his body to peek at the time, earning some muffled noise from a still slumbering Francis.

Ten-fifteen.

_'Damn... That late already? I never sleep in this late. I wonder why I did today...'_

Tossing that thought aside, Arthur began gently stroking the elder male's light hair.

"Francis... Time to wake up, love." He said softly, leaning down to place several kisses on the Frog's hair.

"Mmm, Arthur?" came the mumble of a reply.

"Yes, I'm here. I promised you I wouldn't leave." Francis' head perked up causing the Englishman to chuckle slightly.

"M-merci, mon cher." Francis smiled the sweetest smile Arthur had ever seen from him after all these centuries. Looking away, his face turned scarlet.

_'Why is he so cute all of a sudden? And why do I feel weird, a tingly sensation all over my body?...'_

"Mon cher?" Francis lightly nudged Arthur's arm, which was still subconsciously wrapped around him.

"Y-yes?" Arthur turned to face him only to be met by the taste of wine from Francis' lips.

"Je t'aime," He breathed out, lips cracking up into a small smile upon seeing his love's face turn a deep shade of rose red. Without thinking, Arthur pulled Francis into another kiss, but this time deeper with more passion.

"I love you too, Frog." Was all the response Francis gained before taking part in yet another heated make out session.

_'I guess even in his weakened state he still has his passion and love...'_

Arthur parted his lips, practically begging for his mouth to be invaded. Naturally, Francis seized the opportunity and dove his tongue into the other's mouth, exploring his newly claimed territory.

Subconsciously, Arthur's hands began to wander. Without breaking the kiss, a curious hand wound itself in Francis' silky locks. The strands of gold felt so good between his nearly toneless fingers. Gripping the hair tight, Arthur tugged hard forcing Francis' head to snap back with a small yelp.

* * *

\

"Do you want to?" He breathed out, lips merely centimetres away from the Frenchman's.

"Oui." Came the reply without a moment's hesitation.

"Good because I was going to either way." The Englishman smirked evilly, the pirate in him coming out to play.

Smashing their lips together, Arthur practically tore Francis' shirt off and tossed it aside without a second thought before shoving his lover down on the bed rather roughly.

Breaking the kiss, Francis bit Arthur's lip as if to provoke his pirating instinct even more. With a violent tugging of the Frenchman's hair, the younger nation stared at him hungrily before moving down to nibble various places on his neck in one swift movement.

A small contented moan escaped Francis' lips as Arthur found his sweet spot. A sort of triumphant grunting noise came from the horny Englishman, so he bit the spot again with more aggression this time. Seizing this opportunity , he slid off the elder male's trousers and underwear, adding them to the pile with his shirt.

Pulling away and gasping for air, Francis tugged at Arthur's clothes, almost begging for him to take them off.

"Off." He breathed the command out.

"Gladly." Arthur began slowly un-buttoning his creased shirt as if to tease the French nation.

Francis bit his lip impatiently, watching hungrily as the shirt was tossed aside like rubbish. Wanting to do something, he quickly intercepted Arthur's hands to remove his trousers before almost ripping his underwear off.

Gently nibbling his neck, Arthur traced a pale finger over Francis' bandaged chest and down his stomach sending shivers up his spine. With a smirk Arthur grasped Francis' cock gaining a noise in-between a gasp and a satisfied chuckle.

Their lips met again as Arthur began to pump his hand up and down Francis' length slowly, forcing small, muffled moans out of the Frenchman.

"F-faster, Arthur!" he moaned against the other man's lips, hips bucking against Arthur's body.

Arthur lustily obliged and began pumping faster, grinning, gaining numerous groans and pants. After a few pleasurable minutes, Francis felt near his limit; digging his nails into Arthur's back.

Looking down at the gasping mess beneath him, the former pirate smirked before sliding down and licking his love's tip. Taking Francis into his mouth, swirling his tongue around, he pushed Francis over the edge with a load contented moan. Arthur struggled to swallow the amount of semen that came from his love's broken body.  
As his head came up to meet Francis', Francis hauled him down into a violent, passionate kiss.

"Fuck. Me." came the hiss in Arthur's ear.

_'Damn, he's demanding. I fucking like it.'_ Grinning to himself, Arthur traced the lines around Francis' ear.

"I was wondering when you would say that." He breathed seductively.

Placing his hands on Francis' hips, despite his pirating instinct he was still cautious not to hurt the elder male. Arthur gently lifted Francis' body to the correct height, wrapping his legs around him, his cock at Francis' entrance. Clinging on tighter, Francis breathed in the Englishman's scent of tea.

"Ready?" Apparently he didn't intend on preparing the Frenchman.

"I want you in me, mon cher. **Now.**" Francis demanded.

Without a word, Arthur slammed his entire length inside Francis, earning a pained gasp followed by exasperated panting and groans.

His back snapped up into a painful arch causing a splatter of blood to force it's way from Francis' mouth.

Now slowly thrusting forward and backwards, adjusting to the tight space, Arthur leant down with a look or pure lust in those emerald eyes of his, tracing Francis' jawline with his tonuge then moving north to lick up the copper-tasting red around his mouth.

"H-harder. F-faster! S'il vous plaît!" Francis almost screamed out. Mostly from lust but a hint of agony from his aching ribs and spine.

Granting his wish, Arthur thrusted his hips his hips with more force. Francis rapidly becoming a sweaty mass of flesh beneath him. The heated silence broken by Arthur's heavy panting and the sound of slapping skin.

Nearing his limit he knew the Frog must be near his too. Arthur grasped Francis' throbbing erection and began pumping vigorously.

Both their panting quickened, hastily turning into a long contented moan, the pleasure washing over their entire bodies as they both came. Arthur's spraying Francis' insides and Francis' over himself and Arthur.

Slowly pulling himself out, the violent, lustful look from his pirate days faded to be replaced with a soft, loving gaze before collapsing on the bed next to Francis.

\

They each smiled at one another, still panting heavily.

"J-je t-t'aime..."

"I... L-love you too, Francis." They each managed out before unwillingly becoming prey to the clutched of sleep; Francis being cradled affectionately in Arthur's arms as they slept.

* * *

**I am so sorry if it sucks . **

**This is the first MalexMale intercourse scene I've written. I'm used to heterosexual scenes XD**

**I'm sorry if they seem OOC I tried my best to keep them in character but it's hard with uke Francis even though I love it when Arthur tops ^-^"**

**Drop a review maybe? :3**


	5. Just like a pill

**It's pretty much half term now, so I'll have more time to write! Yaaayyy**

**Anyway, the end of this chapter may be triggering to some readers.**

**Hope you like it!**

* * *

Francis awoke at some time in afternoon; he wasn't entirely sure. Reluctant to get out of the plush bed, he groaned and rolled over. Wait a minute-

His blond head shot up, sapphire eyes scanning the room.

_'Where is Arthur?'_

The Englishman was no longer in the bed next to him, let alone in the room.

"Arthur?" Francis called softly, still dazed from sleep.

Pulling his weight up from the bed, Francis rummaged around in the pile of clothes on the floor eventually picking out Arthur's t-shirt. Quickly slipping it on he headed toward the door.

Francis tiptoed gracefully down the stairs despite the fact he was wearing nothing but Arthur's shirt; which for some reason was a little too large for him. Just how much weight had he lost from not eating?

Francis seemed to not mind he was half naked though, but then again he had always been open about his body. He loved the human body, he was one of few who truly saw the beauty of it, he could see beauty in everything and that made him very special.

"Mon cher?" he called again, slightly "more audible this time. A mini surge of panic washed over him as the though that Arthur might have left him popped into his head.

He snuck around the Brit's abnormally large house until the sound of cursing reached his ears.

"Oh bloody-FUCK!" came the London accent causing Francis to breathe a sigh of relief as he entered the kitchen.

Arthur appeared to be cooking some form of food for them both. Well, _attempting_ to make something. It's the thought that counts, right?

Naturally, Francis panicked at the thought of the Englishman's cooking. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his face before intervening.

"A-ah, m-mon cher!"

"Oh, good morning- well, late afternoon actually." Arthur chuckled softly as he turned to Francis.

"W-what are you making...?" He asked, still worried he might be forced to eat whatever the foul smell was emanating from.

"Uh- Scones... Why?"

Francis let out the breath he didn't realise he'd even been holding.

_'Oh thank God! I can at least help make them edible...'_ The Frog thought to himself as he walked over to his lover.

"Let me help, oui?" He stood behind Arthur, arms wandering aimlessly around his effeminate figure until their hands met. A deep blush instantly spread across Arthur's face. Normally it wouldn't have been so bad, but typical English weather meant his skin was pale resulting in the blush looking a lot redder than it probably should have done.

Francis' lips bent upwards into a small amused – but loving – smile upon seeing the shade of his beloved Brit's cheeks.

"I-I can m-make them m-myself, Francis!" He attempted to defend himself: the Frog wasn't having any of it.

"Nonsense, my love. It is not that your cooking is actually terrible, just that I think you used too much or too little of some ingredients. Also you cook them at too great a temperature." His thick French accent sent little shivers shooting up Arthur's spine whilst the blue-eyed male continued to smile at him.

"O-okay..." He turned to hide his head from embarrassment, however, failed and resulted in Francis gently placing a long finger under his chin then placing his lips upon Arthur's. The shade of rose red plastered across his face deepened and turned into a lush shade of scarlet.

Ending the kiss, Francis grinned at the younger male before getting to work on the new batch of scones but not before disposing hastily of the epic failure that was Arthur's first attempt.

* * *

Francis reached over, taking the bag of plain flour then pouring out exactly two hundred and sixty grams, fifty of white sugar, one and a quarter teaspoons of baking powder, and one quarter teaspoons of salt and baking soda.

Dumping it all in the bowl, he handed Arthur a block of unsalted butter.

"One hundred and thirteen grams, s'il vous plait?"

Whilst Arthur weighed the butter, Francis pulled his silky platinum locks back into a wavy and slightly curly pony tail.

"Do you want moi to help you mix it?" Francis smiled cheerfully, his deep blue orbs sparkling like they once used to causing Arthur to gasp internally.

_'Wow, he's really in a wonderful mood today. I wonder, is it because of me? Or just the... the s-sex this morning?' _Arthur shuddered slightly - not enough to notice - at the thought, obviously kicking himself that he allowed himself to revert back to his ungentlemanly old pirate self.

_'Damn, Francis looks really great today. I never actually noticed it before but he's really quite attractive- wait a second... WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN THINKING ABOUT THIS?'_ Arthur's face turned a rich shade of scarlet in two seconds flat as he blurted out his reply to Francis' question absent-mindedly.

"Yes."

He could've sworn he heard a faint little 'Onhonhon' escape the French nation's mouth.

Standing behind Arthur like he had just a few minutes earlier, Francis coiled his hairy arms around Arthur's petit effeminate frame as they started to softly mix the ingredients together until at a bread crumb-like consistency.

After washing their hands clean of the flour,butter, and whatever-the-hell-else-was-in-there; Francis easily measured out the correct amount of milk.

"I take it you can mix this correctly, oui?"

"Ah-um yes." Arthur began to blush for the nth time that afternoon.

"Okay~" Francis shot him a sweet smile "I will just be upstairs for a moment." He figured he should probably get properly dressed.

With that, he skipped off although being careful not to exert himself to do his damaged, fragile little body any more harm.

* * *

Not wanting to make Arthur wait too long, Francis hastily salvaged a pair of white jeans along with a black and white checked shirt which he left unbuttoned exposing his bandaged chest and stomach that was covered in small scrapes and bruises half healed. It wasn't the most fashionable or attractive look in the world, but Francis didn't care as long as his beloved Arthur was with him.

"Merde..." He cursed to himself as he ran a cold finger over one of the scrapes. It all looked so agonisingly painful. If Francis was in any pain at all then he certainly didn't show it.

He sighed before deciding to rejoin Arthur in the kitchen, who was just finishing up with mixing the milk into the mixture.

"Oh, mon ami! It looks magnifique!" He praised his lover with a huge grin.

"W-well, I-I-" Arthur was abruptly cut off by the touch of Francis' lips on his. The mild taste of wine and cheese danced upon his tongue as his emerald eyes slowly slid closed. Finally melting into the kiss, Arthur's arms subconsciously slipped around the elder male's neck whilst the arms around his waist tightened ever so slightly to pull their bodies closer together.

"We should get these in the oven, non?" Francis breathed when he broke the kiss.

* * *

The two nations decided on watching a film together whilst they ate the perfect scones. Seems like Francis had been right as to why Arthur's scones always turned out like something just died.

Francis had curled up lovingly to Arthur and was beginning to doze off to sleep when the doorbell rang.

"Bloody hell. It's nearly six in the evening..." Arthur mumbled numerous little curses under his breath as he shuffled over to the door. He opened it to find a young boy with shoulder length dirty blond hair and beautiful violet eyes with glasses quite happily sitting on his nose. This boy smiled sweetly and the wild, random curl jutting out from the side of his head bobbed slightly as he cocked his head ever so slightly.

"Oh, Hello Matthew. What are you doing here?" The annoyed feeling Arthur had instantly disappeared when the young Canadian smiled warmly.

"Hi, Arthur~ I heard Francis was involved in an accident and I was worried and I figured he'd most likely be here at your place so I came. Sorry for not letting you know in advance, I'm terribly forgetful..."

How could Arthur say no to that?

_'Hold on a second, that sounds like...'_ Francis had been listening to the conversation from his spot on the sofa.

"My dear sweet Mattieu!" He cried, overly happy to see the Canadian as he joined Arthur. "Well do not just leave him outside! Come in Mattieu!"

Matthew allowed himself to be dragged in by the eager Frenchman. Arthur sighed, closing the door behind them.

_'Well, there goes my quiet evening...'_ He thought to himself, not that he wasn't happy to see Matthew or anything, because he was overjoyed to see Matthew. Just with everything that had happened recently, he felt like he needed a quiet night.

"Eep! Oh my god Francis, are you sure you're okay? It looks so painful..." Matthew eyed Francis' chest and stomach worriedly.

"Oui, I am fine Mattie. It does not hurt at all, really!" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly apologising for scaring the living crap out of the boy.

He was lying. Of course it hurt. How could it not hurt? His ribs ached terribly with the occasional sharp stabbing sensation over every inch of his chest and not to mention the dull sting of every cut or scrape on his body. He could feel the pain in his spine growing every minute he wasn't resting, but of course he didn't say anything. He didn't want Arthur to worry about him so he ignored everything including the searing burn he would feel in his heart every now and again.

"Um, Francis? You okay?" Matthew waved an arm in front of Francis' face snapping him out of his daze. "You looked like you were spacing out there." Matt laughed a little before noticing Arthur walk into the room massaging his temple. He had a migraine.

"So I'm assuming you two are together now?" The grin on the young boy's face began to grow wider and wider. Francis' face starting to mimic it slowly as his gaze turned to the Brit.

"I-I... u-uh. Wait, w-what makes you think we're t-together?" Yet again, a light red shade spread across Arthur's cheeks forcing a giggle out of Matthew.

"Oui! We are together now!" Francis chirped lovingly, shooting a wink at his lover.

* * *

The three of them were huddled together on the sofa whilst Arthur flicked through television channels aimlessly, trying to find something of interest to watch. He was attempting to blank out whatever drivel Francis and Matthew were going on about – not doubt from when Matt was still a child.

Growing bored, Arthur yawned and decided it was time he went to bed.

"I'm going off to bed now, you're quite welcome to stay Matthew. We have a spare guest room if you'd like?"

"Oh yes, that would great! Thank you very much Arthur." Matthew responded politely, nodding a thanks as Arthur pulled his body weight off to his bedroom.

Unable to contain a yawn himself, Matthew stretched lightly.

"Feeling tired, Mattieu?" Francis chuckled, feeling worn out himself. Who wouldn't be feeling worn out in his state?

"O-oui..." Another yawn squeaked its way out of Matthew causing Francis to giggle lightly.

"You were always so adorable when you are sleepy, mon ami!" Matt blushed a cute shade of baby pink as he playfully punched Francis **very** gently in the arm.

"H-hey! Don't embarrass me like that!" He whined like a young child.

"We should go to sleep, I will show you to your room, oui?" His sapphire eyes showed some kind of happiness; a wonderful sign that perhaps this broken man is getting better? Maybe, just maybe...

Francis led Matthew up to the spare room and made sure he was going to be alright before heading to his own room.

Carefully, he shrugged his shirt off not wanting to cause any pain to his ribs or lungs. Although that wasn't entirely possible; the slightest movement hurt like hell causing a sharp intake of breath.

"Merde." He managed to hiss out after the agonising task of getting his shirt off. Luckily getting his trousers off was a much easier task.

His whole body aching, Francis slithered into bed with gritted teeth.

_'Why does it hurt so much? It did not hurt this badly earlier...'_

Francis then realised that it _had_ been hurting that greatly earlier in the evening, he simply hadn't noticed because he was ignoring the pain.

He must have been more exhausted than he thought as he drifted off to sleep with ease, snuggling up gently amongst the sheets he looked just a like a slumbering angel...

* * *

_'Francis would you just bugger off?'_

_'But mon cher!'_

_'No! I hate you, I want nothing to do with you, bloody Frog! Why don't you go fuck your little buddy Antonio.'_

_'I cannot do that...'_

_'Oh? And why is that?'_

_'Because I love **you,** mon ami'_

_'OH PLEASE. Don't pull that shit on me. I know damn bloody well that you're just trying to get in my pants. You don't **love** anyone. You're just a fucking man-whore so grow the fuck up'_

_'M-mon cher...' The tears welled up as the Englishman stormed off leaving a trembling Frenchman desperately finding a grin to put on his face._

* * *

A small scream could be heard as Francis shot up breathing heavily and rapidly. Exerting his poor respiratory system to much causing a dark splatter of blood to shove its way out Francis' mouth turning his hyperventilating into muffled chokes through the hands he slapped over his mouth. His eyes widened, not from shock, but agony and worry. Worry that he might have woken Matthew and Arthur up with his scream and chocking.

The horrible memories of the heartbreak and hurt he had had to endure over the centuries from the man he loved so dearly. Crystal drops spilled from his pained eyes as his bloodied hands slipped down into his lap.

The door clicked lightly and his breath got caught in his throat. It slowly opened to reveal a very worried Matthew Williams.

"F-Francis...? I-I heard you scream," His violet eyes widened at the state he saw the man who raised him in. Crimson freely splattered over his hands, tear stained cheeks and his skin was noticeably paler than it's usual tone. Matthew rushed over to the sobbing male to comfort him.

"H-hey, it's okay." he whispered, softly rubbing small circles into his back "Je suis ici, ne pas pleurer. S'il vous plaît?"

_I'm here, don't cry. Please?_

"Oh Mattieu, Je suis désolé..." Francis choked out faintly.

_Oh Matthew, I am sorry..._

"Que faire pour?"

_What for?_

"Désolée de t'avoir réveilée. C'était égoïste de ma part..."

_Sorry for waking you up. That was selfish of me..._

"Hey, you know I'm a light sleeper anyway," The young Canadian smiled reassuringly gaining a small, pained smile from the elder male. "Now tell me, what's wrong, Francis?" He got himself comfortable next to Francis on the bed, Matthew had always been a good listener.

"I-I had a bad dream..." He choked out, still sobbing quite violently.

"What about? You can tell me."

"I-It was a-about how Arthur hat-hate-... hated me. H-He told me that no one l-loved me and t-that I should just go fuck Antoine..." The tears began flowing harder, more freely as the broken nation re-lived the emotionally scarring memories. "I-I mean, yes I used to love Antoine... He was my first and I his, b-but we g-grew apart and he fell in love with Lovino and I with Arthur. A-although a lot of the time I get the f-feeling he does not feel the same..." That was it. The poor man was unable to speak of his memories no longer.

An empathetic look shot across Matthew's pale face; he knew that feeling all too well.

"H-hey, don't cry. _**I **_love you..." Without thinking about what he was doing, Matthew gently placed a finger under Francis' chin lifting his head to face him. To Francis' utter shock and disbelief, Matthew pulled their faces together in a sweet but gentle kiss. His sapphire eyes were wide with horror, however, made no attempt to pull away. Perhaps for fear of hurting his fragile body further or perhaps not wanting to upset his little Matthew.

What couldn't have been a worse moment, Arthur shuffled tiredly to Francis' door.

"Francis, are you okay? I heard-" His emerald eyes widened just as Francis' were wide. "WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?" Arthur practically screamed, his anger barely covering the heartbreak in his voice.

Matthew instantly pulled away, his face bright red with embarrassment and horror of what he'd just done.

"Oh my- merde. Arthur, I-I am so sorry!" Matthew squeaked out as he recoiled, terrified of what the Englishman might do to him.

"THE HELL YOU ARE!"

"Angleterre..." Francis hadn't even noticed the fresh warm tears dripping from his pained eyes.

"Shut the hell up, Francis! I knew you were a bloody man-whore, but Matthew? What the fuck!" His voice wavered slightly, the hurt now more evident in his voice.

"Arthur- I can explain! It's my fault, I kissed Francis. He had nothing to do with it! We were talking a-and I don;t know I couldn't control myself-"

"I don't- I can't even- J-Just get out of my house, please... Now."

"But mon cher-" Francis attempted to interrupt.

"I said now!" Matthew shot up from the bed, rushing to get back to his room to grab his things.

"I am so sorry..." He whispered, the genuine sorrow in his voice caused a pang of guilt to well up inside Arthur, but he stood firm to his words.

Matthew hastily bundled his things together and left without another word. _'Shit... I am so, so, so sorry, Francis, Arthur. I'm so sorry...'_ Was all that buzzed around his mind.

* * *

As soon as he'd left, Arthur turned his attention straight to Francis.

"What the fuck was that, huh?"

"Arthur-" Francis was yet again cut off.

"I loved you! I _**love **_you! Okay? I love you Francis! Why do you do this to me?" Francis went to speak but no words would come, only tears so Arthur continued. "I was always afraid to be with you before for fear of being hurt l-like this! Every time we get close it should get better, right? It only gets fucking worse though!" Tears began to spill from Arthur's eyes – a sight Francis rarely saw.

"J-Je t'aime, Arthur! Je t'aime! Je t'aime! Je t'aime!" He repeated over and over, but the tears that fell harder from Arthur's eyes, the warm drops in Francis' own eyes still refused to stop.

"I-I, I just don't k-know what to do any more, Francis... I honestly don't. I love you, b-but sometimes I really wonder if you do love me." Arthur shook his head, confused by the conflicting thoughts running around his mind.

"Je t'aime, Arthur!"

"I'm going to take a break, away from here. You'll be fine on your own, I... I just need some time to think."

"Non! Mom cher, non! Vous avez promis!"

"I'm sorry, Francis. I'll only be gone a few days, a week at the most. I'm sure you'll be fine for that long..." Before anything else could escape the Frenchman's lips Arthur had already disappeared. No doubt to pack anything he would take with him, leaving Francis alone for the rest of the night to break down, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

It was still early in the morning and Francis was sat up in bed; the tears had stopped but the marks stained his cheeks still.

"Je t'aime... Arthur... I love you too much." He mumbled to himself, turning a small pocket knife over and over in his fingers. "I love you..." It was softer this time, closer to a whisper.

No second thoughts, Francis ran the light blade over the pale flesh of his left arm multiple times.

One slash that said to him, _'He doesn't love you.'_

Another that spoke, _'You're meant to be alone.'_

A third, _'You always fuck every relationship up'_

A fourth, _'Don't get involved with anyone'_

And a final fifth gash, _'You would be better off dead so you can't fuck anything else up'_

The knife slid from his shaking hands. His whole body was trembling horribly. Even so, Francis pushed himself hard to search for a first aid kit to dress his wounds. His eyes were dull, lifeless as though he had no will to live any longer.

He shakily cleaned up the crimson liquid oozing from his arm before wrapping the bandages all the way up to the elbow. When he finished, Francis absent-mindedly crawled back into bed where the silent tears fell during the rest of the night.

* * *

**I feel like such a bitch for being horrible to them like this .**

**If there's any grammatical errors or mistakes in the French, please let me know so I'll change them!**

**Hope you liked this chapter, drop a review maybe? :3**


	6. The Last Night

**Hey guys, soo sorry for such a long wait for this chapter!**

**I've been really busy with exams, coursework, homework and work experience . But that's all over now and it's nearly the summer holidays so more writing time! **

**Anyway, I worked really hard on this chapter and I honestly think it's the best one yet. I hope you enjoy this chapter~**

* * *

Drip. Drop. The tears splashed the carpet as Francis watched helplessly, sobbing so violently it pained his healing respiratory system, but he didn't care about that. All he cared about was that Arthur was leaving – his precious Arthur was leaving him.

"A-Arthur, please! You cannot leave me, y-you- YOU PROMISED!" He snapped. Francis clung to Arthur's free arm, warm tears soaking the sleeve.

It seems Arthur hadn't noticed the fresh bandages wrapped up the length of the Frenchman's left arm.

"Francis, please. I just need some time to think everything over." He shrugged Francis off.

"Where will you go?"

"You don't need to know that. I don't want you following me in your state. I'll only be gone a week at the most." Arthur's voice broke towards the end of the sentence as he desperately tried to choke back a pained sob.

"I-I can't s-stand a w-week w-without y-you... Arthur je t'aime tellement!" Blood once again forced it's way out of Francis mouth. The strain of sobbing and begging was too much for his lungs to handle as he slumped the floor, staring at Arthur as he tried so hard to not let his pain be seen, desperate to keep the tears at bay.

"You'll be okay..." Was all Arthur mumbled, barely audible before walking out the door, only briefly looking back once. It broke his heart when he saw Francis curled up on the ground coughing and choking out sobs as the endless streams flowed from his dull sapphire orbs.

* * *

Arthur had no clue where he planned to go, all he knew was that he needed some time alone. It pained him to just up and leave his beloved Francis, a fresh wave of guilt washed over him when the thought of how he left Francis crept into his confused mind.

_'I-I just don't know any more... I am truly sorry Francis. I love you, more than you know. I always have done ever since we were kids...'_

Tear threatened to spill from his emerald eyes as his pace hastened. Eyes squeezed shut, Arthur broke into a run; running as fast as his legs could carry him. Repeating the same thing over and over; 'I'm sorry'.

* * *

The knife hit the ground with a loud clattering sound followed by an agonized gasp of pain. Red began to slowly stain the cream carpet as the crimson dripped from Francis' arms.

_'Je suis désolé, pardonne moi, Arthur...'_

Cuts and gashes now plastered the Frenchman's left arm from wrist to shoulder. The blood oozed freely down the length of his arm.

"M-merde!" Francis gasped out as the realisation hit him. His right hand instinctively flew up to grip the bleeding areas, but that simply increased the intensity of the pain.

Blood seeped into the carpet; it just kept flowing from the gashes with no intention of stopping. Francis began to feel light headed, his vision started to blur and he lost his balance. His broken body fell against the wall, his legs gave way and dropped to the floor, a pained grunt sounding from him.

"Je suis désolé..." Francis whispered softly, his arm falling limp by his side.

_'Am I going to die? Not that I would mind if I do, everyone may be better off that way, especially Arthur... All I ever do is mess things up.'_

Silent drops rolled down his already tear stained cheeks as these thoughts buzzed through his mind, the adrenaline rapidly depleting. Francis' body becoming numb, all colour in his skin drained and his vision was beginning fail him.

"J-je t'aime..." The last sound that passed through the bleeding Frenchman's lips as the darkness fell on him like a tonne of bricks, surrounding every inch of his shattered form.

* * *

A saddened grunt broke the blissful silence of nature as Arthur fell to his knees, his flustered face resting softly in his hands. Figuring he was far enough away, he let himself break down. The warm tears soaked his face, breathless sobs filling the air Arthur internally hated himself: hated what he'd done to Francis and hated the fact that Francis could be doing something incredibly stupid at that exact moment. Oh the irony of that thought. Though he couldn't be entirely sure; knowing the drama queen Francis was, for all Arthur knew Francis could simply be bawling his out, making a big deal out of it; or, the Francis he'd known recently... Broken, emotional, completely shredded and torn inside.

"Oh God, what have I done...?" He managed to sob out, perfect fear plastered across his pale face. The Englishman simply wished with all his heart that the French fool hadn't done anything amazingly idiotic and didn't intend to before he gets back.

His gaze drew his head upwards, facing the sky as silent, hopeful tears ran down his cheeks.

"Francis..." Arthur whispered to no one in particular, although he knew that somehow, Francis could hear him.

* * *

A sharp, stinging sensation caused the Frenchman to stir slightly, followed by a ringing that flooded his sense of hearing, a soft, warm feeling running over his left arm... Wait, what?

Lightly moaning, his whole body ached and creaked with effort. His dull, sapphire eyes trying to push themselves open and failing due to lack of strength. The slightest movement caused a stabbing pain in the centre of his chest, forcing a splatter of blood up his throat resulting in a choked scream to come from him.

"H-hey, stay with me now. You hear me? Don't you give up!" That voice... Francis' ears rang once more indicating this person's shouting was the source of the ringing in his ears.

"God dammit, Francis!" A sweaty hand collided with his cheek, stinging painfully. That explains the stinging sensation. He didn't care any more, Francis used every fibre of his being to force his eyes open and satisfy his groggy curiosity as to what was happening.

At first the whole scene was blurry, slowly becoming clearer. The figure of someone knelt in front of Francis raising a hand as if to slap him once more, subconsciously forcing a whimper to sound from the Frenchman.

"A-ah!" Francis quickly felt his light body being lifted into a warm embrace followed by the same words being muttered repeatedly in his ear, "Mi dispiace, mi dispiace, mi dispiace..." And then it hit him.

"A-Antoine?" Francis' vision becoming clearer, he finally made out the image of the tanned Spaniard.

"Si. I am here, amigo." A warm hand gently stroking Francis' light hair reassuringly.

The Frenchman had no words, he was utterly stunned that someone had taken the time to worry themselves sick over _him. _All he could do was cry and cling onto his best friend as tightly as he possibly could.

"Hey, hey... It's alright now, you'll be okay now." That warm smile instantly calmed the sobbing Frenchman.

"M-m-merci, Antoine... Merci beacoup." Crystal drops continued to fall from his hurt blue eyes. Antonio's bright green ones having a hard time keeping tears of their own back as he held his ex lover's body.

Before Francis knew what was happening, Antonio had lifted him bridal style and was carrying him into the living room seeming to not care about the blood staining his shirt and still dripping from Francis' left arm. Antonio lightly propped Francis down comfortably on the sofa before hurrying back to snatch up a few bandages and quickly kneeling in front of Francis.

"Give me your arm." The Spaniard commanded and Francis hastily complied, biting his lip, dreading the oncoming questions. Antonio took Francis' white hand in his own caramel hand, lightly pressing his lips to Francis' hand just above the knuckles. A small smile spread across Antonio's face as a deep blush across Francis'.

"I feel like your Prince and you are my Princess, just like it used to be." The Spanish male giggled at the memories.

"I-I... Oui, just like it used to be." Francis' pale lips curled up slightly. Antonio merely chuckled as he began softly wrapping the bandage up Francis' arm, starting at his hand to wrap his wrist.

* * *

They each stayed silent the whole time except for a few gasps from Francis every now and again before the Frenchman decided to shatter the silence.

"Antoine... Why are you here?" His gaze fell, looking away.

"I- Well, Matthew called me and said he was worried about you. He asked me if I could come check on you. It's a good thing I did, otherwise I might not have you here right now."

"A-ah. I must thank Matthew, merci Antoine. For everything - then and now."

"No need to thank me, Francis. I've always felt I needed to make it up to you, for leaving you when I fell in love with Lovino... I've never felt it was fair on you, leaving you alone like that." Antonio replied, not once meeting the Frenchman's gaze as he finished off the bandaging neatly.

Francis' eyes widened at Antonio's words. "Mon cher... I have never resented you for it, I understood. Love is love, you cannot control whom you love. You cannot control your love for Lovino as I cannot control my love for A-... Arthur" His lover's name was quite, whispered. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as he remembered.

"Speaking of him, where is he?"

"H-he left..."

"Is this what Matthew was talking about? Why he was worried about you?" Despite the Spaniard's dislike for the Englishman, he was worried for the both of them.

"Oui."

"And... What about this, Francis?" He gestured to the Frenchman's newly bandaged left arm. Pain instantly shot across Francis' face, indicating it was a touchy subject. However, he felt he could tell the Spaniard.

"I-I did that, m-myself."  
"I guessed that, but, why?"

"They are reminders, notes to myself mostly," His lips turned into a frown "It is not the first time I have done it either. T-There are numerous scars on other parts of my body..."

"Francis... M-may I see?" Antonio didn't bother to hide it any longer, the tears freely flowed from his emerald eyes full of remorse. Francis nodded lightly as he pulled his shirt off, careful to not injure himself further, to reveal many scars of different tones sprinkled over his torso and back. He also held his right arm out, showing a few more.

A loud sob sounded from Antonio's trembling body. The mere sight of how terribly broken his first love truly was caused him immense pain. Of course, he still cared deeply about the Frenchman, his closest friend - the best friend he could have ever asked for.

"Antoine, mon cher... Je suis désolé." Seeing Antonio crying, seeing the crystal-like drops falling from his eyes was enough to force the tears to flow freely from Francis' own eyes and repeat apologies over and over.

"Sh, sh. Don't cry, mi amore. May I know what some mean...?" A caramel toned finger sweetly traced a few of the scars marked along Francis' stomach since his chest was still bandaged. Francis nodded, telling Antonio to point to any mark that had once been a tear in his beautiful skin.

The Spaniard pulled himself together, running his eyes over the Frenchman's form contemplating a scar before he gently ran an index finger over a large purple coloured mark which trailed from in-between his shoulder blades, over his right shoulder and down his side. "This one?" Antonio whispered softly.

Francis swallowed nervously, he was extremely uncomfortable being exposed as he was, though he was compelled to tell his once-lover everything he couldn't tell Arthur.

"T-that was during the war in 1916. I-I was helping Arthur escape. He was savagely attacked, I-I had to protect him." A small chuckled escaped his lips at the memory of the next part "He never could repay me enough, always saying thank you. When truly, knowing he was safe was all the thank you I needed."

Antonio smiled, knowing the bond between the English and French nations was strong, but he never knew their bond was that strong.

"It reminds me that I must always, no matter what, protect him. No matter the cost, I will always protect Arthur."

"And this one?" Antonio pointed to a smaller, but wider scar across his forearm.

"He hates you, just give up." Francis looked away, viscously biting away at his bottom lip.

"Oh, Francis..." The Spaniard held Francis' hand to calm and reassure him before pointing to one more scar. He gently removed the bandages from Francis' chest, almost certain he was correct; Francis began to tremble, knowing exactly what he was looking for. The soft material fell to the floor, Antonio's eyes widening. He was sure he was right, although a part of him hoped he was wrong. There it was, two scars crossed over one another in an 'X' shape over where his heart was. Antonio traced the lines before circling the marks.

"I was so sure you might have done something like this, I know you Francis... Though a large part of me wished I was dead wrong. Just one more. What does this one mean, por favor?"

Francis' eyes slid shut, taking Antonio's hand in his, he placed the hand over the 'X' and over his heart. Antonio could feel the Frenchman's heartbeat; it was soft, loving and sweet just like Francis was - soft and loving like his country was. The country of Amour.

"This one, mon cher..." Francis whispered, barely audible, as if to himself, but, he wanted Antonio to really listen to the meaning of those two tears in his skin. "This one I made during the war as a note to myself of the promise I made to Arthur. The promise that I would always love him, protect him and never leave his side. Remember that time where I was terribly wounded, Antoine?"

The Spaniard nodded lightly, wincing at the memory of seeing his best friend in that state.

"I promised Arthur there and then as he held me. I made this mark in front of his eyes so that he would always know. I crossed my heart," Francis led the Spaniard's finger to trace the 'X' engraved over his heart "And hoped to die."

A small, content smile danced across the pale Frenchman's lips and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Arthur has one t-too... He made the same promise to me, though I feel he forgets a lot of the time. I love him too much, Antoine. The same as I once loved you."

Antonio's saddened emerald eyes slid closed as he smiled softly to himself.

"Francis, I understand. I would do the exact same thing for Lovi... I understand now, that was truly _have_ grown apart, we can never be close again like we once were. There is nothing left I can give you, except just this, mi amour." He leant up so he and Francis were level, gently cupping his cheek with a pleasantly warm, caramel toned hand.

"Te quiero, Francis." The Spaniard closed the gap, pressing his soft lips to Francis' still trembling ones for a few seconds before pulling away to sweetly caress his friend's cheek.

"Merci, Antoine, for everything. Je t'aime." Francis kissed Antonio in the same fashion, however, longer this time. They were each so reluctant to let go.

"Merci beacoup, mon cher." The two men embraced one another lovingly for a long while before Antonio thought it be best to get Francis checked out at the hospital.

"Come on, Francis. You lost a lot of blood, let's get you checked out." Francis nodded lightly as he quickly - but not too quickly - pulled his shirt on and took Antonio's hand.

* * *

"It's been two days..." Arthur mumbled himself as he stumbled through the small forest he had found himself in "I felt our connection weaken and fade yesterday, what did that idiot do? It's a damn good thing I can feel it today, quite strong too, or god blood knows where I'd be right now." He internally kicked himself once again - hard. The Englishman continued to stumble around, not caring that his clothes had ripped, his face and arms smothered in small nicks and scraps from branches that jutted out.

"Perhaps I should go back-" A sharp, sudden pain in his chest interrupted Arthur as he dropped to his knees, fingers curled into his shirt painfully.

"Fuck!" He chocked out "I-it's never been this strong b-before..."

* * *

Francis had been declared fit enough to stay at home by the Doctor the day before, so Antonio had double checked that the Frenchman was feeling alright - not just physically, but mentally too. Of course, Francis had lied. He was still heartbroken over Arthur leaving him - after being fooled by Francis' little 'I'm okay, really!' act, Antonio had left, since he had problems of his own - namely, a tonne of paperwork and one grumpy Italian.

Despite the Doctor's advice to not leave the house, Francis was not home. The voice, that horrible, petty little voice inside his head has gotten to him.

_**He's never coming back, you fool.**_

_H-he is too! Arthur promised he would be back. He just needed to think some things over._

_**You really believed him? You idiot.**_

_O-of course… Arthur w-wouldn't lie!_

_**You truly are a useless fool. He'd be better off if you were dead.**_

_N-no! I promised Arthur I would always protect him, I-I can't do that if I'm dead._

_**He promised you the same thing. Where has he been all these years? Certainly not with you.**_

_T-that has nothing to do with it! I love Arthur and that is all the matters._

_**He doesn't love **_**you****_._**

…

_**You could get away from all this. The heartbreak. The pain. The fear. It could all end, but only if you end.**_

_B-but... I p-promised..._

_**What's a promise like that when the one you promise to doesn't **_**need****_ you, or _want_ you to protect him._**

_I-I..._

_**You are truly worthless. Love? Ha! You've had your heart broken so many times, yet you never learn!**_

_L-love is something we cannot control!_

_**And look what it gets you! Remember Jeanne D'Arc? Heartbreak. Antonio Carriedo? Heartbreak. Matthew Williams? Heartbreak. Arthur-**_

_Don't say it!_

_**Arthur Kirkland – Heartbreak.**_

_Just leave me alone!_

_**Just end it!**_

_You win._

* * *

Rushing and roaring of waves drowned out all other sound in Francis' ears. His body was freezing, telling him to find warmth, though Francis simply ignored this and pressed on. Slipping a few times, he scaled the rugged rocks, muttering words in his native tongue to himself, tears staining his cheeks.

_'I am sorry, Arthur. This is for the best.'_ The Frenchman thought to himself, knowing Arthur could somehow, somewhere hear him, as he pulled himself up onto the highest rock which also just happened to be a ledge. Below zero winds slapped and whipped at Francis' pale white skin as he curiously peered over the edge, a foot slipping slightly causing his fragile, broken heart to race. It was so beautiful; dull sunlight shoving through the heavy grey clouds, the way the violent water below him rippled and tore, the froth and foam that formed as the waterfall spanked the surface of the water. It seemed to calm the Frenchman.

Francis shuffled closer and closer at a slow pace in fear that the wind may push him if he were to hasty.

"W-what good am I? The c-country of l-love a-and I can't even f-fine someone who l-l-loves me like I love t-them! I am a useless country!" He screamed to no one in particular, mostly just venting.

Francis glanced over his shoulder behind him, one last time whispering an apology to the man he loved. A single tear rolled down his face, that one drop that held so much emotion and no one would ever know, not now. He let his sapphire eyes slide shut before letting himself freely fall over the edge, a small smile of happiness on his face.

That fragile body smacked the surface hard, knocking the breath out of Francis. Waves shoving him back and forth, various parts of his body colliding with sharp rocks jutting out, leaving dozens, even tens of tears and gashes, red quickly spreading around the water. Francis didn't care at all, this was what he wanted. To die. His body was already numb, the icy water took effect hastily, his usually rose lips were now ice blue, his torn skin – deathly white. Waves finally got a grip around Francis' body, dragging him under mercilessly without any struggle from the drowning man. Running out of what little oxygen he had, darkness began to shroud his vision, he was about to drown, he could feel it.

Francis could no longer feel his body, no emotions, no physical pain. Noting as everything went black. The last thing he felt was something grip his bloody and scarred wrist tightly with no intent of letting go any time soon and then being dragged roughly out of the freezing watery abyss.

"Breathe, dammit. Don't you die on me you idiot."

That was it, he knew nothing more as his heart finally gave in.

* * *

Bright. White. Light.

A finger twitched, followed by a almost silent whimper of agony.

A second finger twitch, this time followed by a small gasp and wrinkling of the nose.

Finally the opening of eyes.

"F-Francis?" Came a worried, chocked voice. The Frenchman's groggy gaze fell on the green-eyes blond clinging onto a heavily bandaged hand, tear stains over his pretty face, more drops pricking at the corners of his heartbroken eyes.

Upon noticing he got a response, whether the Frenchman were fully awake or not, those tears instantly fell, nextly Francis felt his painful, shattered body being carefully embraced.

"A-Ar...thur...?" A barely audible wheeze made it past his lips.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here, love." The Englishman planted numerous sweet little kisses over Francis' hand to reassure him.

"Am... I-I not... dead?" His pained sapphire eyes widened slightly at the realisation.

"No. Thank fuck you're not." Arthur once again, sent small thank yous to God, despite not being religious.

"H-h-how?" Francis whispered, still unmoving for fear of the agony his body would undergo.

"I bloody well jumped in after you. That's how." He nearly snapped, but restrained himself. Francis' eyes widened more upon the immense guilt that washed over his form.

"B-but... H-how did you... find me?"

Arthur closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself as his fingers took his shirt off to reveal his scarred torso from many centuries of battle and war, but the one mark that stood out was a large 'X' over his heart. Lifting Francis' bandaged, broken hand and placing it over the mark and his heart, Arthur's free hand rested on Francis' chest – which was layered with bandages I might add – where he _knew _the same mark was.

"We share a bond. I can feel your presence. When you're near me or when you're happy, it's strong. When you're far, weak or sad, it's weak. When you're in pain, I feel it in my chest. We're connected, Francis." Arthur explained, much to Francis' surprise.

"I-I thought... you had forgotten about these marks..." Francis whimpered, his fingers curled slightly into Arthur's chest over his 'X'.

"I never once forgot my promise to you. I know it seemed like I had, but I didn't. It's because of our bond that I know you've been hurting yourself. I feel it every time. I never brought it up in bed or any other time the scars were visible because I knew how you were feeling." Francis looked away, embarrassed and shocked.

"Francis, please. Promise me you'll never hurt yourself again." Arthur's expression quickly turned stern.

"O-oui. I promise. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, Arthur!" The Englishman seemed more than satisfied with that answer.

He leant down carefully to place his lips of the Frenchman's. God it felt so good. His lips now returned to their usual rose colour as a small pink blush lightly dusted his bruised, purple cheeks as he kissed back. Pulling away, Arthur planted sweet, caring butterfly kisses along Francis' light hair before carefully clambering into the hospital bed with him to simply hold him lovingly.

Arthur said one thing in the Frenchman's ear before Francis fell asleep, his body was exhausted.

"That was the last night you'll spend alone. I've got you in my arms and I'm not letting go. I love you."

* * *

**And that concludes chapter six!**

**Translations:**

**Je suis désolé - I am sorry**

**Oui - Yes**

**Je t'aime - I love you**

**Je t'aime tellement - I love you so much**

**Je suis désolé, pardonne moi - I am sorry, forgive me.**

**I hoped you liked this chapter .**

**Drop a review maybe?~**


End file.
